Searching for the Past

The Ghostlands were as gloomy as ever. The smell of rotting flesh emanating from the Dead Scar made most hold their noses. The chill of the air here made even Northrend folk wear their coats. None of this bothered Tirmanel. Even if his senses weren’t dead, it still wouldn’t. Tirmanel was on a mission. He wanted, no, needed to recover who he once was. He knew he was once a Night Elf Druid. He knew he was old, possibly even from the time of Malfurion Stormrage. He needed to know more. He had received a tip from an old friend in Darnassus, Tatia, that he may find out more from a priest named Naerityah.

With this information in hand, he made his way across the seas to Menethil and headed north. He decided to travel up the Dead Scar for two reasons. First, this was Horde territory. The fact that he had learned that Naerityah would often come to Tranquillen to relax made this an even better route, as it provided an undetectable path right beside Tranquillen. Secondly, it always felt good to kill the undead. The Dead Scar provided for plenty of opportunity to dull his Bryntroll.

As Tirmanel stood at the beginning of the Dead Scar in southern Ghostlands, an awkward smile crossed his face. He knew that soon he would be coming closer to his goal of finding out who he was before Arthas rose him into undead service. Then his smile grew wider still as he saw the swarms of undead march toward him. He would kill all of them in his path to Tranquillen.

Naerityah sat on the edge of her bed in the top tower of the inn in Tranquillen. She was nervous. Arioch had visited her earlier that day to tell her of a death knight that was looking for her. She still remembered the conversation as vividly as if it had happened seconds before…

A flash of light, so intense it was blue, and the sound of a lightning strike had filled her room in the inn. She knew at once it could be none other than Arioch, as he was the only person she knew that made such an appearance when he teleported.

“You know, you could do without that grandiose entrance. Plenty of mages I know do it without making a sound,” Naerityah said almost as to chide Arioch.

“Not many mages are me, either,” Arioch said almost smuggly. “I come with news.”

“What now? The last time I saw you, it was to request my presence in Icecrown. The light is only so powerful you know,” Naerityah joked. “I can only do so much when a Vyrkrul is trying to eat your face off.”

“Now is not the time,” Arioch said in a grim tone. “A death knight named Tirmanel is seeking your counsel into his past.”

Naerityah fell onto her bed, the words feeling almost like a physical kick in the stomach. “Who?” She managed to breathe.

“Tirmanel. I know you know that name. I know that name. He was there the day we were exiled by Malfurion. He was your husband. I can see why you were in love with him now, as I am sure you are aware of my current… interests in a certain kaldorei named Tatia,” Arioch said, speaking the last words almost incoherently.

“Yes I am. That road is littered with heartache, young one. I advise you to tread lightly,” Naerityah warned.

“As you did, old friend?” Arioch probed.

“I will await his arrival, my dear friend. Thank you for the news. Shorel’aran, is’quel’e,” Naerityah said to tease Arioch in order to hide her fear. (Good-bye, One of the Young)

With another blue flash and crack, this one brighter and louder than the last, she was alone again with her thoughts. In no more time than she could gather everything that had just happened, a shadow darkened her door. The axe, darkened by the blood of what could only be the undead, stood out. The plate armor glinting in the gloomy sun, the grayish purple hue of the skin, the deep purple hair… her soul wept. The next thing that happened nearly took her back nine millenia…

“Are you the priest known as Naerityah?” came the voice of the Death Knight at her door, its cold reverberance chilling her to the bone. Something about the voice also soothed her, ss if it contained the shattered fragments of her long-lost husband.

“I am, Death Knight. What is it that you seek?” The words passed her lips in a harsher tone than intended.

“I was told you were the one who could tell me who I truly am. I was told you could restore what I have lost. I need your help,” Tirmanel said, almost pleading, nearly begging. “I cannot live this existence much longer. Not knowing my past, memories of battles, of green forest, of you…”

“The path you intended to go down will only lead to destruction. What I tell you may drive you insane. Are you sure you wish to know these things?” Naerityah said, almost attempting to protect him. Her soul was tossing in a seas of turmoil and emotions no woman should be made to bear. Yet, her love for her husband still held firm over the 8000 years since her exile from Teldrassil, even if it was at his hands.

“TELL ME!!” Tirmanel demanded. “YOU KNOW NOT WHAT IT IS TO LIVE THIS EXISTENCE!!”

“Calm down, kaldorei. I will tell you.” Naerityah began relating a history that spanned several thousand years. Starting with his birth in Teldrassil to the day of Malfurion and the exile of the high elves. The last thing she had to tell him is what she feared the most.

“There is one last thing you must know. My soul calls out to you, our destinies are intertwined… because you see, you are my husband.“ Naerityah broke down. Every fiber of her being wept. Her heart ached at the sight of Tirmanel, her beloved. She feared him for his existence as a Death Knight, but loved him for who he once was.

Her sadness only lasted what seemed like seconds. The next thing she knew, Tirmanel had slammed her against the wall and drew his axe to her throat.

“LIES!!! I can believe who I once was… but being married to you!!! I can only believe so much.” Tirmanel hissed.

Their eyes met at this range. The stares each had were like that of two sides of a coin. Naerityah looked at him with fear and love, searching his soul for who he once was. Tirmanel glared at her, looking at her with nothing but hatred, but still searching for the truth in her words.

As they stood staring, Naerityah knew what she had to do next.

“RETHORE!!” She yelled, as a sheet of light came between her and Tirmanel.
(Guard)

“YOU WILL DIE, PRIEST!!” Tirmanel cried. “MEET THE STEEL OF MY BRYNTROLL!!”

With those words, Naerityah felt a freezing cold, followed by a sickness, as if her very blood were consumed in a plague. In this close of space, she had no time to summon her shadow powers. She quickly cleansed herself and readied herself for her next attack.

“I WILL NOT FALL BY YOUR HANDS, DEATH KNIGHT!!! THE LIGHT WILL OVERCOME!! PENANCE!!” She beckoned the light to her call.

“IT SHALL NOT BE THAT EASY. COME TO ME, WRETCHED FIEND. LET US SEE HOW YOU LIKE A PLAGUE OF DEATH!!” Tirmanel had summoned his ghoul to his side and called upon the powers of unholy to spread Death and Decay in the room.

The inn was not meant for battle. It could not contain the immense powers of light and unholy and it exploded violently, tossing both combatants to the ground outside.

Naerityah leapt to her feet in an attempt to mount and run before Tirmanel gained his footing. Just as her mount was almost at her side, she felt an icy chill as she was pulled through the air to within inches of the Death Knight. She quickly placed a shield on herself, murmuring the words to summon her inner powers to harden her armor and increase her resolve. She then placed the few shadow spells she had on Tirmanel, in hopes it would buy her time to flee.

In a flash of green, unholy light, the Death Knight seemed unphased. He began his assault. She again felt the chill and plague… stronger than before. She did everything she could to heal herself of the damage they were doing to her body, but it never seemed like it was enough. She couldn’t cleanse her body of the diseases either, as Tirmanel had fired a ball of shadow at her that made them uncleansable.

The next thing she saw nearly brought her to the ground. Tirmanel’s axe had turned into pure unholy energy, as if the power of the Scourge had overtaken his blade. She fell to the ground, awaiting her end. However, it did not come.

The familiar flash of blue and crack of thunder brought her relief.

Arioch had appeared and blasted Tirmanel with Arcane, knocking him several yards back.

“You will not harm her, Death Knight,” Arioch said cooly with disgust. “I would suggest you leave this field of battle immediately, or I shall give you a second death.”

“Oh really, Sindorei. Bring. It. ON!” Tirmanel replied as he charged in.

Arioch felt the chill and plague the same as Naerityah did, however, they did not phase him. He picked up Naerityah in his arms, froze Tirmanel in place and blinked away, all with a simple twitch of his brow.

“Have it your way, Tirmanel. QUEIN’EL!” Arioch yelled, as a stream of Arcane Missiles flowed from his hands, knocking Tirmanel several more yards away. (Missile or Projectile)

“NO!! Do not kill him, Arioch!” Naerityah pleaded.

“As you wish,” Arioch said, almost upset that he didn’t get to finish what this Death Knight had started. “Good-bye, Tirmanel. You are not who you once were,” Arioch said in disgust.

With a blink of his eye, he and Naerityah vanished, leaving Tirmanel alone with fewer answers and more questions.

As Tatia was sitting in her favorite place in Ashenvale, she heard the familiar sounds of Arioch’s appearance. When she turned to meet him, the sight nearly brought her to her knees. She saw Arioch carrying the near lifeless body of a priest, with sunbleached skin and the most beautiful tint of orange hair she had ever seen.

“Heal her, my love,” Arioch begged. “She is my oldest friend.”

“I will do as much as I can. She looks as if she is powerful enough to do it on her own once I get her back on her feet.” Tatia said in admiration.

“She can. But right now, she is in need of our help. An old dream met with her today.“ Arioch said grimly.

“Tell me as I care for her,” Tatia said.

Arioch related the story.